Victims
by Singing Daisy
Summary: Takes place during "Musings..." What the detectives are thinking while investigating a case that hits close to home for all of them. Chapter Seven is up. Come on, please review!
1. Natalie

A/N: This takes place during "Musings..." another one of my fics, but you don't have to read that to understand it. This is the story of what the detectives are thinking during this case. The first chapter will be Elliot's POV, then the next probably Olivia, then Munch, then Fin, but I'm not exactly sure of that. It depends on how I write it. Hope you like it. I tried to add a lot of feelings and... yeah. Have fun!

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**Chapter One **

**Elliot's POV**  
  
The day that my daughter told me to talk to my wife, the only reason I listened was because of where I was being called to. Yes, we got a call to a scene, and yes, there was a rape, but it was different than all of my other calls during the day. This one was different. This one had to do with Lizzie. This one was at her school.  
  
After I dropped Lizzie off at our house, just in time, I was told later by my son, Dickie, for dinner, Olivia and I rode over to her school. There was no crime scene tape, and there were no CSU officers. _The vic must still be alive_, I thought, pulling into an empty parking spot, and instantly chastised myself for the thought. It was like one of our witnesses in a hotel murder said once. _"Guests become room numbers after a while."_ It was like that with victims, except they just became faces. My sanity couldn't afford for them to be anything else.  
  
As we stepped up to the doors, an elderly woman opened them for us from the inside. She looked at us warily. "Are you the detectives I called for?" she asked, her lips pursed in a tight line that reminded me of many of the nuns at my Catholic high school.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Olivia said, pulling out her badge and showing it to the woman, who was somehow familiar to me. I couldn't put my finger on where I'd seen her before, but I had. "I'm Detective Benson, this is Detective Stabler. May we come in?"  
  
The woman nodded and opened the door just wide enough for us to squeeze through. She locked it when she closed it, and her lips pursed even more. I didn't think that was possible. "Stabler, huh? Perhaps I should get another detective."  
  
"Why's that?" I asked.  
  
"I have your daughter in class, Detective. Elizabeth? I'm Mrs. Wurst."  
  
I gave a relieved sigh. So that's where I'd seen her before. Open house, of course I'd have spoken to her if she taught Lizzie. "I think it will be fine," I said. "I can remain rather objective."  
  
"Oh, no, young man," Mrs. Wurst disregarded, and I had a rather funny picture of her wagging her finger at me, a man about two heads taller than she. "I'm not having one of Natalie's friends' fathers talking to her. Your partner can do it."  
  
"Natalie?" Olivia repeated, opening her notebook. "What would be her last name?"  
  
"Derranger," Mrs. Wurst replied. "She's just in the other room with my colleague, Miss Templeton. You may go in to see her."  
  
Olivia looked to me with her eyes raised amusedly and walked into the room Mrs. Wurst pointed to. I moved to follow her, but Mrs. Wurst grabbed my arm.  
  
"Don't you dare tell Natalie that you're Elizabeth's father," she warned, and made me feel remarkably like a school boy who'd just been caught running in the halls. I nodded, holding back a smile, and walked into the room after Olivia.  
  
There was a small, timid-looking girl in glasses with so many freckles on her face that when I first entered the room, I thought she was orange. Her hair was dark brown and violently curly. Her lip quivered as she saw me enter. A young woman, a pretty blonde, touched her shoulder and whispered, "It's okay, Nat."  
  
"That's right, he's nice," Olivia said, smiling kindly. "He's my friend Elliot."  
  
"I don't... couldn't I just talk to you?" she asked, hopefully. Olivia smiled and nodded.  
  
"Elliot won't say a word, will you, El?" she asked me. I drew my fingers over my mouth as if zipping them, which got a small smile from Natalie. My heart lightened a little at the small signal of happiness. After what she went through and she could still smile...  
  
"Can you tell us what happened, Natalie?" Olivia asked, kindly. Natalie sniffed a little, and wiped her nose on her sleeve.  
  
"I, uh, had detention tonight after school," she began, and I wondered why. I signalled to Olivia with my eyes to ask.  
  
"Could you tell us why and with whom?" she asked, and I remembered that I loved being her partner. She could pick up on the subtlest hints.  
  
"I didn't understand one of my Math assignments, so I didn't do it, and got in trouble with Mrs. Wurst," she muttered, giving an apologetic look to the woman standing in the doorway, who looked, if anything, defiant.  
  
"What happened after that?" Olivia asked.  
  
"I was walking out of the school," Natalie relayed. "When I got outside somebody pulled me into the bushes. Just came up behind me and grabbed me."  
  
"Do you know who it was?" Olivia questioned and Natalie shook her head.  
  
"No, he was wearing a black mask," she remembered. "Like a skit mask. And his voice sounded like he changed it deliberately, you know, so I wouldn't recognize it."  
  
"So he spoke to you?"  
  
"Yes, he said I'm going to do him a favor. For extra credit, he said. It was scary."  
  
"I know, sweetheart. What kind of favor did he mean?" Olivia asked, gently setting her hand on Natalie's. Natalie's voice quavered as she answered.  
  
"He told me to get on my knees and close my eyes. I said no way. He said I'd better, and he forced me down. He unzipped his pants and made me... made me..."  
  
At this she burst into tears and I wanted nothing more than to rush over and hug her, cradle her in my arms, tell her it was okay. In my mind, her face shifted to become Lizzie's and shifted back. I shook my head, trying to get the image away, but I knew better. It would never go away.  
  
"Natalie, I know this is hard," Olivia said, so softly that I could barely hear her, "and I'm sorry to have to put you through this. But thank you, Natalie, that was wonderful. You did great. Now, Elliot and I are going to take you to the hospital..."  
  
"Why?" she asked, nervously. "I'm not... he didn't hurt me..."  
  
"I know, sweetheart, and that's good, but we need to make sure that you don't contact any diseases or become pregnant..."  
  
"You can get pregnant from that?" she asked, worriedly. Olivia looked at me with slight confusion that only her partner would notice.  
  
"Well, of course, honey, if you had sexual intercourse..."  
  
"No, no, he didn't rape me," Natalie argued, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. I noticed for the first time that they were beginning to tear up. "He made me, um..."  
  
"Oral sex," I said out loud. Natalie looked at me as if she had forgotten that I was there but nodded quickly.  
  
"Yeah, that."  
  
Olivia looked at me again, this time her face was pained. I knew what she was thinking. All this guy had to do was not ejaculate or give her a drink of water and clean her lips off and we had no evidence. Damn them.  
  
"Well, we're going to take you to the hospital anyways, to check for STD's, do you know what those are?"  
  
"Yeah, we, uh, learned about them in health last year," Natalie sniffed. "I got an A on the test..."  
  
"Good for you," Olivia encouraged with yet another smile. "Are you an A student?"  
  
"Yes, all A's all my life," Natalie said. Olivia grinned at her and stood up. Natalie rose with her.  
  
"You know, I never was. Could never get the hang of math. The equations confused me..."  
  
As we walked to the car, I only vaguely noticed Olivia and Natalie talking. I knew Olivia was only trying to make Natalie feel better, but it was making me feel worse. Asking the victim questions, getting to know her... it all made it less anonymous and easier to get attached. I didn't know how Olivia could talk with her and not start crying instantly. Of course, Olivia had never been one to cry.  
  
Unfortunatly, I always had been.


	2. The Note

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, I honestly can't believe you guys like it so much... LoL. Hope you like the next chapter... I mean this chapter, this one, that I'm posting right now... CHAPTER TWO, OKAY?! lol. I frusterate myself sometimes... Read and Review, perdy pwease!!

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**Chapter Two**

**Olivia's POV  
**  
I had sat in that hospital room for hours and had become so used to the white sterile walls that when I left, everything seemed dark. Natalie had insisted that I sit with her until her parents flew in from Florida, where they were looking at real estate. It took them two hours to find a flight, and almost eight hours to fly up. Through all that time, I didn't sleep.  
  
Natalie did. She fell asleep at ten thirty four. I know, I was looking at the clock the hospital has on the walls. Before she fell asleep, she asked me again why she was staying at the hospital. All I could tell her was, "We want to make sure your not hurt."  
  
That, and I just didn't want to take her home.  
  
If her parents left a thriteen-year-old girl alone to look at real estate in Florida, I didn't want to take her back to that house. No wonder she worked so hard on her grades. She was thriving for their attentention. Don't ask me how I know that. It's my intuition talking.  
  
Her parents came rushing in at four in the morning, and they didn't seem tired at all. Just worried. As the mother wrapped her arms around her daughter, weeping, the father pulled me aside.  
  
"Hello, I'm Tom Derranger," he introduced, holding out his hand. I shook it.  
  
"I'm Detective Benson, my partner, Detective Stabler, and I will be working on your daughter's case," I told him, as was procedure. He nodded.  
  
"I just wanted you to know that anything we can do to help you, you've got it. Here and now," he promised and I nodded.  
  
"Thank you, that's very helpful," I said, but inside I was thinking, _Oh, sure, _now _you're going to pay attention to her. Great timing, buddy._  
  
"Are there any questions you need to ask me? Anything at all?"  
  
"Actually, yes," I said. I wanted to get some background information on Natalie, to find out what type of girl she was. "Natalie said she was an A student. Was she?"  
  
"I'm, uh, not sure," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "She never showed us her report cards."  
  
"Oh, I see," I said, my voice remaining neutral, but inside, I was disapproving. I knew I shouldn't have been. I had no idea what it was like to raise a child, but still, shouldn't you at least know what her grades were? To me that was a given. "Was she helpful around the house?"  
  
"Yes, very," he agreed. "Often without our prompting.  
  
_Why am I not surprised,_ I thought, but didn't say it out loud. "Did she stay after school often?"  
  
"Yes," he said, but then thought about it. "I mean, no. I'm not exactly sure."  
  
"Did she have any problems with certain teachers?" I asked.  
  
"I wouldn't know," he said, beginning to sound disgruntled. "I'd never met any of them."  
  
"What about friends? Does she have any close friends?"  
  
"Yes," he said, sounding relieved that he could finally give a straight answer. "She mentioned a girl... Annie Prescott. I think they're close."  
  
"Good, thank you," I said, closing up my notebook. "That's very helpful."  
  
I began walking out of the room, but Tom caught my arm. "Are you going to catch this guy?"  
  
"We're working on it."  
  
I walked into the waiting room and I was surprised to see Elliot still there. I walked over to him.  
  
"Aren't you going home?" I asked. He shook his head, groggily, like he was having a hard time staying awake, and stood up.  
  
"I can't go home... not right now..."  
  
And I understood. He didn't want to see Lizzie. He didn't want to have to wonder about her, about whether or not this guy, this monster, had hurt her, too. The attack had taken place outside of a school. Who knew how many girls he had hurt?  
  
Elliot yawned and stretched his arms up above his head. "You get anything?"  
  
"Notta," I said, and we began to walk out of hte hospital. "Those parents don't know a thing about this girl. They didn't even know what her grades were. I did, however, get the name of a friend. Annie Prescott."  
  
"If Natalie was having problems with anybody, this girl's gonna know," Elliot said, opening the door for me. I stepped into the cold, November air and shivered, realizing that I had left my coat in the car. But I soon forgot about it as I opened the passenger door and slipped inside. There was a tiny slip of paper sitting on my jacket. I looked around, wondering who had put it there, and then looked at the window. It was open a crack. I must have accidentally rolled it down. As I opened the paper, Elliot started the car.  
  
"What's that?" he asked, leaning over to read over my shoulder.  
  
"A note," I said, "from another girl."  
  
"_Dear Cops,  
I saw you take Natalie to the hospital, and followed you on the bus. I hope that's not stalking, cause if it is, I sure am sorry. See, I was at the school, standing outside the door, cause I needed to talk to Wurst bout an assignment, and I heard what was goin on. I heard bout Natalie, and I sure am sorry that she had to go through that. And it makes me kinda sorry I stole her lunch every day in the third grade. But my point is, it happened to me, too. I just ain't been brave enough to come forward till now. I think you cops can help me. Thanks.  
- Miss Annie Prescott, 8th grader_."  
  
"Annie Prescott?" Elliot said in my ear. "Isn't that..."  
  
"Her dad said he thought Annie was her friend," I said. "He said Natalie talked about her a lot. She wasn't talking about her because she was her friend..."  
  
"She was a bully," Elliot said. "And another vic."  
  
I sighed as Elliot started moving the car forward. "Which means," I informed him, as if he didn't already know, "that we've got a serial child molester on our hands."

* * *

When Elliot and I returned to the squad room, we were shocked to see John Munch still there. He wasn't really doing anything, just staring off into space, like he was thinking. When he saw us approach, he looked up.  
  
"Did you take my advice, Elliot?" he asked, but Elliot ignored him. I gave him an apologetic smile.  
  
"Sorry, John, we had a rough night," I said, sitting down at my desk. "Is Cragen in?"  
  
"Is he ever not?" Munch asked, rhetorically, and I smiled again. Elliot, however, just walked over to Cragen's office.  
  
"I'll tell him, Liv," he said, and I was thankful for it. I didn't want to relive the night to my boss. Of course, I should have known that by staying with Munch, I would have had to relay it either way.  
  
"Tell him what?" John asked me, after the office door closed behind Elliot. I sighed and launched into an explanation. After I was done, all John could do was curse over and over again.  
  
"What about Lizzie?" he asked me after his river of profanity had run dry. "Who's going to tell her?"  
  
"None of us," I said, authoritatively. "She doesn't need to know."  
  
"There's a serial child molester who attacks kids outside of her school, Liv," John pointed out, as if I had skipped over that fact in the investigation. "I think she has a right to know what's going on."  
  
"I think she has a right to her own innocence for a little while longer," I argued, trying desperately to get through to him. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.  
  
"You have a point," he said. "I hate it when you do that."  
  
I gave him a half-hearted smile. "Yeah... sometimes I do, too."  
  
"Well, just so you know, Fin and I would be happy to talk to this Prescott girl in the morning, so you and El can get some rest, okay?" he offered, and I gratefully took him up on it. Elliot, however, was not pleased.  
  
"No way," he said, firmly, when John repeated the idea to him. "My daughter, my case."  
  
"She's not your daughter, El," I pointed out. "Annie Prescott is a girl we don't even know."  
  
"A girl who came to _us_, Liv," he countered. "Not to John and Fin."  
  
"Just because you guys were there," John pointed out. "What, you think I can't handle a teenager? Lizzie likes me."  
  
"Lizzie is a strange child," Elliot noted, and John had to nod in agreement.  
  
"True, but how do you know this kid isn't going to like me, too?"  
  
"Because _you_ don't like _kids_," Elliot said. John opened his mouth to argue, but Elliot hastily added, "Except Lizzie."  
  
"Look, Elliot, I want a rest this morning," I said, jumping back into the argument. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I just need some time to work stuff out, okay? Please, let him talk to Annie. For my sake."  
  
"Fine," Elliot consented, reluctantly. "Fine. But don't scare her, okay, John?"  
  
John narrowed his eyes. "Am I really that scary?"  
  
"Yes!" Elliot and I said at the same time. John just rolled his eyes, and I made my way up to the crib, for what I felt would be the last time until this case was over.


	3. Annie

A/N: I love Munch... Munch is God... Oh, yeah, and I hear Jesus is pretty holy too... Please reveiw, pretty please?

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Chapter Three

Munch's POV  
  
As Lizzie sat perched on the edge of my partner's desk as she always was after school, chatting animatedly with Fin, I couldn't speak. Couldn't say anything. And, I've heard, that's a big thing for me.  
  
I just felt so guilty. There was a sexual predator praying on kids at her school, and none of us had told her. We were supposed to be her friends, her protectors. Well, we were doing a hell of a job protecting her then.  
  
"Whatcha workin' on, John?" she asked, sounding particularly cheery, and it pained me even more that I wasn't telling her. I knew she was just a little girl, but she was also more mature than everyone thought. Instead of saying all this, though, I looked at her over the rims of my glasses.  
  
"Think about it, Liz," I said. "I'm a detective. You're in a squad room. What do you think I'm doing?"  
  
She laughed, and it was so childlike, as if nothing had ever hurt her. She _may be smart_, I thought to myself, _but she's naive and young, too_.  
  
"Munch, Fin, you talk to that Prescott girl, yet?" Cragen called from his office, and I wanted to smack him in the forehead. Of course, since he was my boss that might be considered a breech of authority, so I didn't. He had forgotten Lizzie was sitting right there, and that she might know Annie Prescott, considering she went to her school. Fin, however, didn't notice that fact either, and called back to him.  
  
"We were waiting till school got out, Cap'n," he said. Cragen looked at his watch.  
  
"Which was an hour ago," he informed us. "Go, now, please."  
  
I raised my eyebrows at Fin and we both stood, grabbing our coats. Lizzie jumped off the desk and quickly stole Fin's seat.  
  
"See you, guys," she called to us, and I gave her a little wave as we left. It wasn't until we stepped into the car that Fin spoke to me.  
  
"Feelin' guilty, man?" he asked. I gave him a wry smile.  
  
"Guilt? I don't know the meaning of the word," I lied, and we began the drive to the Prescott residence.  
  
We knocked on the door of the dirty apartment. An African American teenage girl answered, and seeing us, she instantly shifted her weight onto one foot and put her hands on her hips.  
  
"Whatchoo want, playa?" she asked, her voice filled with attitude. I gave Fin an amused smile, but his face stayed neutral.  
  
"That's the first time I've been called that," I noted, mostly to fill the silence as I took out my badge. I showed it to the girl, whose face grew just a little bit more frightened. "I'm Detective Munch, this is Detective Tutuola. Are you Annie Prescott?"  
  
"Yeah," she said, sizing us up with her eyes. "What do you care?"  
  
"Remember those detectives you gave the notes to that last night?" Fin asked, copping the same attitude as Annie. I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes at his antics. We weren't there to play tough-guy.  
  
"You ain't them," she noted. "Why are you here?"  
  
"We're their partners," I said. "They wanted us to come talk to you."  
  
"Figures," she said, turning around and walking away. She did, however, leave the door open, and I took it as an invitation to walk inside. Fin seemed to be thinking along the same lines, seeing as he followed me inside.  
  
"What figures?" he asked, stepping into the messy living room.  
  
"It figures that two white cops'll be too busy with a white girl ta come down an' deal wit' me," she said. She then looked to me. "Prolly had to give you a lota coaxin' ta come down here, huh?"  
  
"Actually," I said, "I had to coax them not to."  
  
Annie's face looked like she was trying not to show regret, but I knew she felt stupid for saying what she had. "Oh," was the only sound coming from her, and I took it as an apology.  
  
"Look, we're just trying to help you, okay?" I said. "Can't we just be friends?"  
  
She gave a harsh laugh. "You guys are going to investigate the guy that made me chicken head him, and you think we're gonna be pals, huh? You got a vivid imagination."  
  
"So I've been told," I muttered, and Fin took over the conversation.  
  
"How long ago was it that this guy hurt you?" he asked, and Annie looked up as if trying to remember.  
  
"Um... bout a week ago," she answered after a moment. "I'm walkin' outta the school, right? An' this guy just came up behind me and pulled me into these bushes that are by the front doors. He's wearing a ski mask. He's all tryin' to act black, okay, but I know he's white."  
  
"How did you know that?" Fin asked.  
  
"You try to hard to be black, you're white," she informed us. "You can tell when somebody's layin' it on too thick."  
  
"What happened next?" I interrupted, and she looked at me as if she wished I'd go away.  
  
"Man said I was gonna get some extra credit, see," she told me. "I get all up in his grill, tell him off. I say, 'There's no way I'm giving you extra credit. This my body, right?'"  
  
"What he do then?" Fin asked.  
  
"Asshole smacks me!" she exclaimed. "I fall back into the ground and he says, 'You don't want to end up with a broken head, you gonna do what I say.' And I'm scared, right? So I do what he says."  
  
"Which is...?" I ask, looking at her over the rims of my glasses.  
  
"Which is give him head, ain't that what I jus' been sayin'?" she said, looking at me like I'm the biggest hick on the face of the planet. All I did was nod, and instantly feel more guilty.  
  
"Sorry, Annie, we just needed you to say it," I said. "It's called getting a statement. We needed it spelled out for us. Sorry."  
  
"Yeah, well," she said, looking uncomfortably at the floor, "you should be."  
  
"Okay, Annie, are your parents home?" Fin asked, changing the subject, and I was greatful for that. I wasn't one to apologize, and if I did apologize, I didn't like the silence afterward to be prolonged.  
  
"Parents?" Annie repeated, like she didn't know what that meant. "Man, you crazy. My 'rents are never home. They been gone for years. You wanna talk to someone? Talk to my sister, Jackie."  
  
"Well, is your sister home?" I asked.  
  
"No, she's at work," she said. "Why? You gonna tell her?"  
  
"We're gonna have to," Fin explained. "We need to take you to the hospital, and then to the Police Station."  
  
"Why? Why can't I just stay here?" Annie asked, looking between us worriedly.  
  
"Because we need to check for STD's and get a final statement," I explained.  
  
"But, I... we... didn't have sex, he just made me... you know..."  
  
"It _is_ possible to recieve a sexually transmitted disease from oral sex," I explained, in as much of a monotone as possible. She looked at me and her face was so young and frightened that she looked almost unrecognizable compared to the tough, street-wise girl that answered the door not fifteen minutes ago. Finally, she nodded.  
  
"Okay," she said. "I'll come."  
  
Fin smiled at her, and lead her out of the apartment. I stayed behind for a moment, just thinking about all the things we've seen, and wondering why I still wasn't used to explaining to a victim the dangers of sexual acts. I should have been used to it by then...  
  
"You comin', or you want me to lock you in there?" called Annie from the door.  
  
"I see you got the attitude back," I mused and she gave me a mischevious grin.  
  
"Psht, it never went away!" she laughed, and I gave a slow sad nodd, but all I could think was, _Yes... yes it did_.


	4. Corroboration

A/N: Hey there, everyone. It might be a little while before I put up another chapter, because I have to plan it out. This is going to be a complicated story, lol. (don't hurt yourself reading it, haha). But for now, I'll give you a little "Fin Fix" as I like to call it. Knock yourselves out! (not literally, though, that hurts!)

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**Chapter Four**

**Fin's POV**  
  
Annie reminded me of my son.  
  
All right, I'll admit that all most all of the child victims we had to work with reminded me of my son, but she did most of all. She was sassy, and smart, and tough. Like my son.  
  
But as I was taking her statement, I had to push those thoughts from my mind, and just think of her as a victim. I learned early on that being in this unit meant not getting attached. If you got attached to the victims, pretty soon, you couldn't take it, and you did something stupid. Or you just couldn't do anything at all anymore.  
  
After the statement, Annie seemed kind of reserved. Uncomfortable. And, although that was normal for victims after they'd just been asked to recount what happened to them in great detail, for some reason I knew there was something else. John seemed to get that vibe, too, because he was the one to ask about it.  
  
"What's wrong? Something you forgot?" John asked. Annie turned to look at him and rolled her eyes.  
  
"Man, why is it something _I_ forgot? Maybe _you_ forgot it."  
  
"Did we?" John asked, and Annie shrugged.  
  
"How the hell am I supposed to know? It's your job."  
  
I was tempted to laugh, but I didn't. Instead, I repeated, "Annie, what's wrong?"  
  
"I'm not sure if I should tell you," she explained. "It's not really my secret to tell, you know."  
  
Munch and I looked at each other over Annie's head, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. I leaned in across the table in the tank and asked, "Is it about another girl?"  
  
The way Annie shifted in her seat, I knew that I had hit on it. I gave John a small, almost unrecognizable nod that I knew he'd see, and he knelt down next to her.  
  
"Annie, you know what we knew about this guy from Natalie?" he asked, and I had no idea where he was going, but I knew better than to interrupt him. I just let him run with it. It was a Munch thing.  
  
"No," Annie replied.  
  
"We knew that he attacked her," he said. "That's it. She wasn't able to give us a description at all. Do you know what we know because you came forward?"  
  
"I probably didn't do much better, did I?" she said, bitterly. Munch gave her a small smile.  
  
"No, you gave us his skin color," he said. "You told us he was white. That's good, it illiminates almost half of New York. But you're a smart girl, and you probably know that we can't arrest half of New York because they're white. We need to get more of a description to catch this guy, right?"  
  
"I guess so," Annie shrugged, and I sort of got where Munch was going with it, but not fully, so I didn't say anything.  
  
"The only way we're going to get a better description is from this girl that you're protecting, this victim, okay? We need her name, and believe me, she'll thank you for it if she gets the chance. You're not just helping us. You're helping her."  
  
After this little speech, I was proud of my partner, because Annie sighed and almost instantly confessed, "Her name's Kit Tomoto. She's in my grade. I heard her in the bathroom crying, and I asked her what was wrong, and she said, 'Extr credit sucks.' It was before my attack, so I had no idea what she was talking about, but now I know."  
  
I nodded to her and gave her one of my rare smiles. "Thanks, Annie. You helped us more than you know."

* * *

"So, what did you guys get from the Prescott girl?" Elliot asked us, and I knew he was still bitter that we took his case away from him. Olivia, however, had seemed releived that we were working on it together. Olivia liked her sleep, after all.  
  
"She said he was white, and..." I paused, knowing that the impact would hit them hard. "...and the name of another vic."  
  
Elliot and Olivia exchanged looks of sadness and disappointment. Liv then gave a sigh and bowed her head, while Elliot turned back to Munch and me.  
  
"Liv and I will take this one," he offered.  
  
"Not right now," Cragen contradicted from where he stood over us, as if watching us like a principal. When I first joined the squad, he scared the shit out of me. I do not like principals. "I want to know everything we've got on this case right now."  
  
As Elliot answered, he read off of his report, and I knew that he wasn't paying attention to the words. He didn't want to relive it again.  
  
"First victim, Natalie Derranger, caucasian female, age 14, grade 8. Had a detention with a Mrs. Harriet Wurst that ran late on the night in question. As she was walking out of the school, a man in all black wearing a ski mask grabbed her and pulled her into the bushes where he forced her to engage in oral sex, saying that it was for 'Extra Credit'."  
  
Cragen nodded, as if none of it affected him, but I knew better than to think it didn't. "All right, and the next one?"  
  
It was Munch's turn to read, although he added a little inflection to his reading. It was his way. "Second victim, Ann 'Annie' Prescott, African-American female, age 14, grade 8. Stayed after for basketball practice with Coach Peter Thomas. She walked out of the school and was pulled into the bushes by a middle-aged, caucasian male in all black with a dark ski mask. He told her that she was going to do some 'Extra Credit' and when she refused, he smacked her face, knocking her to the ground. While she was there, he forced her to engage in oral sex."  
  
Cragen nodded again. "And what have we got on the third victim?"  
  
"I called Mrs. Wurst," Olivia put in, "and she said Kit's real name is Kiyoshi Tomoto, and that she's pretty popular with the other girls. Apparently she's a cheerleader."  
  
"Oh, goodie," Munch said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Olivia raised her eyebrows at him.  
  
"What's wrong with cheerleaders?"  
  
"I just don't see the point in running around a football field yelling 'Ra, ra, ra! Go team!' I mean, how naive are these girls to think that the people are clapping for their gymnastics moves as opposed to their tight shirts and short skirts?"  
  
"Now you got him goin'," I told her, and she laughed as she and Elliot stood up to go find out about Kit. As they left, Cragen called after them.  
  
"I want this girl down here, corroborating her story with the others as soon as possible!" was his order, and Elliot acknowledged it with a backwards wave. As they left, John looked at me with a mischevious grin.  
  
"I still don't like cheerleaders."


	5. Kit

A/N: I have the whole story mapped out, up until the end of Tainted in my Lizzie's Journals series, so you guys will have something to read for a while, lol. Hope you all like it. Oh, and Lizzie's not going to be a vic, but she will come in later, so bare with me.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Elliot's POV  
**  
Olivia and I didn't speak as we walked to the car, but I knew we were both thinking the same thing (we often did, after all). Three girls, three weeks. Who knew how many more there were. Probably a lot, too afraid to come forward. Which meant that we were dealing with something way bigger than us right now.  
  
"Where does she live, again?" I asked Olivia, trying to cut through the silence and forget about the damage this guy, whoever he was, had done. She read off the address, and I gave a low whistle.  
  
"Nice neighborhood," I noted as I drove.  
  
"Yeah, no wonder she's popular." I gave Olivia a sideways look with my eyebrow raised.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, out of curiosity. She shrugged.  
  
"This girl lives in a nice neighborhood, so she's probably got a lot of money," she explained. "In my experience, the girls with a lot of money were always the popular ones."  
  
"So... you weren't popular in high school?" I asked. Olivia shook her head.  
  
"Not with my mom's job, I wasn't."  
  
"Popularity in your high school was based soully on wealth?" I summarized.  
  
"No, it was based on how you looked, how well you dressed, what kind of car you drove, and who you were dating," she tried to explain. "Which then all boiled down to how rich you were."  
  
"I see... But are you telling me you paid for dates?"  
  
"Shut up, Stabler."  
  
When we reached the nice brownstone which belonged to the Tomoto family, I immeidiatly realized that it was her house, because there were three Asian children playing jump rope on the sidewalk. My first thought was that one of them was Kit, but they all seemed too young to be in eighth grade. As we stepped out of the car, Olivia put on that wide smile that she only gets when talking to children.  
  
"Hey, there!" she called. The children instantly stopped their play to look at us. The oldest, a boy, stepped forward.  
  
"Hi," he said warily.  
  
"My name's Olivia, and this is my friend, Elliot," she introduced. "We're police officers and we need to talk to Kit. Is she home?"  
  
"Did she kill someone?" the yougest one, a girl, piped up, and the middle girl gave her a look. I just smiled.  
  
"No, she's not in trouble," I assured them. "We just need to talk to her."  
  
"Can I see yor badge?" the oldest boy asked.  
  
"Right answer," I said, taking it out of my jacket pocket and showing it to him. He examined it for a moment, before nodding.  
  
"I'm Kit's little brother, Haru," he introduced, as if wanting to get to know us before letting us in to his sister. He then pointed to the oldest girl. "That's Ayame, and she's Nami."  
  
"It's nice to meet you all," Olivia greeted, still smiling warmly. Nami, the youngest one, grinned at her in a childish way that appealed to my father side. She was a cutie.  
  
"I can take you in to Kiyoshi's room," said a voice from the doorway of the brownstone. I looked up to see a young man looking down at us with disdain, as though we shouldn't have been there. I nodded.  
  
"That would be wonderful, thank you," I said, and as we walked up the stairs, I saw Nami give Olivia a little wave good-bye. Olivia smiled and waved back. We walked into the house and up some stairs until we reached a hallway. From one of the rooms branching off of that hallway music was blaring. It reminded me greatly of the stuff that my son plays in his room while doing homework, only there was a woman... "singing."  
  
The boy lead us in to this room, and I could see a pretty Asian girl reading at a desk. The room was decked out like any other teenage girl's room should be, posters, a four poster bed, and so much pink I began to wonder about my own masculinity.  
  
The girl looked up from her book and gave us a genuine smile.  
  
"Hey, Haruko, who are they?" she asked, pleasantly, and I found myself liking her almost instantly.  
  
"Police officers," her brother (assumedly) said simply, and stalked off. It took a while for the words to sink in, but when they did, her brow creased in confusion.  
  
"What? Why would police officers need to talk to me?" she asked. Olivia and I exchanged looks. Hers questioned whether or not I should explain it to the girl, and mine told her that she should go ahead. She was better with teenagers than I was.  
  
"You're Kit, aren't you?" Olivia asked, just for verification. After all, we didn't want to question her and find out later she wasn't even our girl.  
  
"Um, actually, at home it's Kiyoshi," she whispered. "Mom and Dad don't let me use my American nickname at home. They're kind of... traditionalists."  
  
I nodded. "I know what you mean. My parents never let me go by my nick name. It was always Elliot at home."  
  
Kit smiled. "Not to be rude, but I can see why you'd want to change it."  
  
Olivia gave me a smirk, but went on. "We need to talk to you about something Annie Prescott told us today."  
  
"Annie?" Kit repeated, quizzically. "What about her? She's not in trouble, is she? I mean, she's a little rough around the edges, but I didn't think she'd get arrested. She's always real sweet to me."  
  
"Actually," I began, slowly, "she was the victim of a crime that you might know something about."  
  
Kit shrugged and shook her head. "I don't think I witnessed any crimes, but..."  
  
"It accurd outside of your school building last Wedensday evening," I told her, and Olivia gave me a questioning look, as if I was pushing it to open up that quickly. I regretted saying anything when I saw Kit's face change from cheerfully helpful, to... well, it looked like I had broken it, and she was trying to put it back together.  
  
"I... I don't know what you're talking about..." she whispered, so softly that I had to lean in slightly to hear her. I kneeled down next to her chair, and put my hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Kit, we really need your help," I said. "If the same thing that happened to Annie happened to you, you can help us catch the guy that hurt you."  
  
"I... Is Annie okay?" she asked, a look of deepest concern in her eyes.  
  
"She's gonna be just fine," Olivia said from behind me. "But if this guy hurt you, you may not be so lucky. We need to know so we can help you, okay?"  
  
"All right... I can tell you what happened... could you close the door, please?" Olivia nodded and moved to close the door. As soon as she did, Kit took a deep breath and launched into an explanation. "I was at school, late, for practice with my cheerleading squad. I hadn't wanted to go, because I had a date with my boyfriend, but I'm the captain, so I had to. So, as I was leaving the school, I had just stepped off of the bottom step, and this guy ran out from no where and grabbed me and pulled me into the bushes at the side of the school."  
  
"Can you describe this guy?" Olivia asked, and I noticed she was diligently taking notes, as she always did. Kit scrunched up her face, trying to remember.  
  
"Um... he was wearing all black and a ski mask... broad shoulders, muscular kinda. I never saw his face, though."  
  
"What about height?" I asked.  
  
"About a head taller than me, and I'm... 5 foot 6," Kit said, her breathing strained. I hated having to put her through this. "So... about six foot 5, maybe six six?"  
  
"Good, that's helpful. Did you see what race he was?"  
  
"He... I didn't see his skin, but he was talking... no, I shouldn't say."  
  
"Say what?" I prompted, and she sighed.  
  
"This is going to sound really racist, but he was talking like a black person," Kit said. "You know, like Ebonics. All this stuff about hoochi and bitch and stuff while he made me... um..."  
  
"Made you what?" Olivia asked, softly and kindly and so gently that I wondered how she did it. How she managed to speak and not let her voice crack. Not start crying. It was the same thing I wondered when I spoke to a victim, except I wondered why _I_ didn't start bawling. I certainly always felt like it.  
  
"He made me... made me... you know... give him... head..." At every word, Kit's voice went softer, until it was barely audible. I gave her the most encouraging smile that I could muster, and touched her hand.  
  
"I'm so sorry to have to make you say it, but we have to, sweetheart," I apologized, and it was a heartfelt apology. I always, always felt sorry when questioning victims.  
  
"Is there anything you remember, Kit?" Olivia asked, benevolently, and Kit searched her memory.  
  
"I... yeah, he said I was going to give him extra credit, before he... you know. Made me to that thing..."  
  
"Thank you, Kit," I said again. "Now, where are your parents? We need to take you to the hospital to check for any Sexually Transmitted diseases..."  
  
"You mean, those can be transferred from that?" she asked. "Oh my God..."  
  
"It's possible, but highly unlikely..." Olivia began, but Kit interrupted.  
  
"No, but you said that Annie was attacked, too!" she cried. "Which means there are more girls! And there might be more than me and Annie! And they need to get tested!"  
  
"Honey, there's nothing we can do if they don't come forward."  
  
"But... they don't even know somebody's been hurt, do they?" she asked, and I looked at Olivia.  
  
"Well, we haven't released information about these attacks to the press, so, no, they wouldn't," I confirmed.  
  
"So, release them to the press!" she ordered. "I'll even give an interview, I just... we have to help them! What if they have a disease, or..."  
  
"Kit, honey, I'm not arguing with you," I said, with a little laugh at her passion for helping these girls. "I think it's a wonderful idea. I can set up an appointment with one of my friends, if that's what you really want."  
  
"It's what I want," Kit insisted. "These girls could be my friends. I want to help them."  
  
"All right," I said, marvelling at her selflessness. "All right."  
  
We took her to the hospital, and her parents were heartbroken from the news. But through the whole time, the one piece of good news I could give them was that Kit's interview was going to help other girls. Other girls that might have seen something that could help us catch this monster. And all the time I thought about Lizzie, and was glad that she never read the paper.


	6. Interviews

A/N: Well, sorry I haven't updated lately. Here's the next chapter. Hope you like. Reviews are COMPLETELY welcome. And, if anyone's interested in beta-ing (if that's a word) for me, thanks ahead of time!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Olivia's POV**  
  
Cragen was waiting for us when Elliot and I returned from the hospital after taking Kit's official statement. He watched our faces as we sat down, and when we did, he gave a long sigh and asked, quietly, "So, what did you get?"  
  
"We have a victim who's one of the most helpful I've ever seen," Elliot mentioned, and I agreed with a nod. Munch gave us a quizzical look from his desk where he and Fin were throwing around a small, Nerf-style football.  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked.  
  
"She wants to talk to the press," I answered, "to help other girls come forward."  
  
"What?" Fin asked, missing the football as it sailed passed his head. "That's a little... odd."  
  
"Just a little," Elliot agreed. "But she was a sweet girl, not like the cheerleaders I remember from high school."  
  
"That's great," Cragen interrupted, "But we have bigger fish to fry, okay? What did you get from her about her attack?"  
  
I looked down at my notes that I had taken. "She said a guy took her into the bushes and made her have oral sex with him, but not before saying she was giving him some extra credit."  
  
"Any DNA left behind?"  
  
"It was two weeks ago, Captain," Elliot answered. "There wouldn't be any left. Besides, this guy's smart. He knows we can't get him if he doesn't leave DNA behind. He probably doesn't ejaculate, or he just trusts that the vics won't tell for a while and the sperm will be washed away."  
  
"Thank you for that beautiful mental image," Munch commented. Elliot rolled his eyes.  
  
"So, what do we have on who saw her before her attack?" Cragen asked, also ignoring Munch's comment.  
  
"She said she was at cheerleading practice with a Coach..." I flipped through my notes, coming upon their name. "Sorry, not a coach. Miss Templeton. The one who helped out Natalie, remember, Elliot?"  
  
"Yeah, I remember," Elliot agreed. "She's one of Lizzie's teachers."  
  
"Where is Lizzie, by the way?" Munch asked. Elliot shrugged.  
  
"She came in about an hour ago, but she said she had homework and went to find a computer. I figured she'd find a detective to oblige. You know how much everyone loves her."  
  
"That, and you didn't want her around to hear this," I noted, and Elliot gave me a wry smile, as if I had hit right on the nose, but he was never going to admitt it.  
  
"Moving on," Cragen interrupted again, needing to keep us on track. I silently thanked him for it. I wanted to catch this guy. "Stabler, Benson, you track down this Miss Templeton, and while you're at it, interview the other teachers the girls were with. Who knows, they might have seen something. Munch, Fin, go down to the school and pull the girls records. Find out everything and anything you can about the vics and their teachers. I want it all, got it?"  
  
"Got it," Fin agreed, and we all stood up together, leaving to get our various orders finished as quickly as possible. I wanted to rush through this so that I could go home and wash away the day in a bubble bath. Of course... I doubted the others had the same goal.  
  
Mrs. Harriet Wurst lived in a small apartment with her husband, Daniel. She answered the door and from the boiling pot on the stove, I could tell we had interrupted her making dinner. She seemed upset, but bustled us inside just the same.  
  
"Mrs. Wurst, we're sorry to bother you," I began, but she interrupted.  
  
"It's no bother as long as you have come about Natalie's attack," she said. "I will do anything to help."  
  
Elliot nodded, opening his notebook this time. "Actually, we have. We just need to ask you a few questions. How late did Natalie stay at the detention with you?"  
  
"Until five," Mrs. Wurst answered, promptly, "and it wasn't really a detention. She was having trouble with an assignment, and I asked her to stay after so I could help her with it. But, Natalie thought it was punishment."  
  
"Is Natalie normally a good student?" I asked her.  
  
"All A's in my class. I wouldn't know about her other classes, though. Teachers don't look at other teachers' grades. It simply isn't done."  
  
"Of course not," Elliot said, smiling amusedly at her. "How long was it until Natalie came back into the school for your help?"  
  
"It was only about half an hour," she remembered. "I got Miss Templeton to watch her while I called you."  
  
"Why was Miss Templeton staying that late?" I asked.  
  
"She coaches the cheerleaders," Mrs. Wurst answered. "She's there every Monday and Wednsday and every other Friday."  
  
"Do you know of any people that have a grudge against Natalie, or that Natalie has a grudge against?" I asked. Mrs. Wurst persed her lips.  
  
"Natalie is a model student," she answered. "She is helpful, intelligent, and kind to other students. Everyone loves her, and if they don't, it's because they are jealous of how far she is going to get in life."  
  
"Do you know of any of these jealous people?" Elliot asked, gently, probably not wanting to incure her wrath again.  
  
"None by name," she answered, briskly. "You would have to ask her."  
  
"Thank you, Mrs. Wurst," I told her, seeing Elliot close his notebook. "That was very helpful."  
  
"If you need anything else, come by any time," she offered, watching as we left the apartment, and soon made our way to the apartment of Miss Alecia Templeton.

* * *

"Hello, Detectives," Miss Templeton greeted, answered the door. She looked surprised to see us at her apartment. Elliot gave her a smile.  
  
"Hello, sorry to bother you at home, but we need to ask you a few questions," he informed her. "May we come in?"  
  
She looked between us, seeming quite flustered, but nodded, quickly. "Of course. Yes, yes of course."  
  
She allowed us inside her apartment, and we stepped in. I took note of the clean, almost sterile looking atmosphere. It looked a lot like my apartment. It was always clean there because I never went home.  
  
"We just need to ask you about Kit Tomoto," Elliot told her, and she gave us a puzzled look.  
  
"But, I thought... why Kit? Did something happen?"  
  
Elliot looked to me to resume the explanation. I gave an inward sigh as I began. "Two weeks ago she was attacked by the same man as Natalie, coming out of the school after her cheerleading practice. We just need to ask you some questions about her."  
  
"Anything, Detectives, anything you need!" Miss Templeton cried. "This is so awful. Kit is such a wonderful girl. I don't know why anyone would do that sort of thing!"  
  
"That's what we're trying to find out," I told her, comfortingly. "How late did Kit leave practice two Wednsdays ago?"  
  
"Um... let's see... She left pretty late, around 7, 7:30, maybe? No, it was around 6:45. That's right, she was the last one to leave, I remember because she helped me set up the nets for the volley ball game that was going to happen at seven in the gym we were practicing in. She always helps like that..."  
  
"Do you remember seeing anyone outside the building when you walked out?"  
  
"Let me think... Coach Thomas was there, but he was just driving up for the volley ball game. Which was strange, now that I think about it, because he's always early for those games. That night he was over ten minutes late."  
  
Elliot and I looked at each other and I made a mental note to visit Coach Thomas's apartment next. He was, after all, Annie's basketball coach, too.  
  
"Do you know of anyone who dislikes Kit?" I implored. Miss Templeton instantly shook her head.  
  
"No one dislikes her, that I know of, and if they did... Well, I would think jealousy plays a big part in that." I looked to Elliot. That answer sounded distinctly familiar.  
  
"What do you mean, Miss Templeton?" Elliot asked slowly, seeing my point.  
  
"Well, Kit is smart, pretty, as I'm sure you've seen, and she has a lot of friends," she explained. "Most girls either love her or want to be her."  
  
"I see," I said, closing up my notebook. "Thank you for your time, Miss Templeton. If you remember anything else, please call us."  
  
I handed her my card from my pocket and she took it, nodding.  
  
"Of course, Detectives," she agreed. "Anything at all."  
  
Coach Thomas answered his door on the third knock. He lived in a much bigger apartment that the two female teachers, and in the backround, we saw why. There were three, very cute little girl running around the living room.  
  
"Quiet down, Danni, and tell Kyliegh to stop jumping on the coach!" Thomas said, gently to the oldest girl, before turning to speak with us. "Yes, how may I help you?"  
  
"We're NYPD, Mr. Thomas," I replied, showing him my badge. "We need to ask you a few questions about Kit Tomoto and Annie Prescott."  
  
"Why?" he asked, seeming flustered. "What happened to them?"  
  
"Annie was attacked outside of the school last Wednsday, and Kit the Wednsday before," Elliot answered, in a complete monotone. Thomas's face fell instantly.  
  
"Oh my God," he whispered. "I can't.... who would... why?"  
  
"We don't know yet, Mr. Thomas," I said, "but we need to ask you a few questions."  
  
"Yes, yes of course. Anything."  
  
"How late did Annie leave last Wednsday from basketball practice?"  
  
"Let's see... Six. No later than that."  
  
"Do you remember seeing anything unusual?" Elliot asked.  
  
"Not a thing, sorry. No one was there."  
  
"Do you know of anyone who she held a grudge against?"  
  
At this, Thomas laughed, and I exchanged puzzled looks with Elliot. "You mean besides every teacher in the school?"  
  
"Can you think of any names at all?" Elliot implored.  
  
"Let's see... She almost had to quit the team this year because she was failing Carl Volkmann's class, but a lot of kids are. She worked hard to get her grade up and keep it above failing, but she's still having trouble. I think she has a high D right now. Her sister was really angry about it."  
  
"You seem to know I a lot about her," I noted.  
  
"She talks to me," he answered. "The girls need a confidant, and I'm there for them."  
  
I nodded. "Thank you. But two Wednsdays ago, why were you late to the volley ball game after school?"  
  
"I... oh, that game. Flat tire on the way. Pain in the butt, but we won the game."  
  
Elliot gave an insincere smile. "I'm sure you must be very proud."

* * *

Back at the Squad Room, John and Fin were already waiting for us, with some surprising information. When we walked in, Cragen was standing over John, reading something over his shoulder.  
  
"Tell 'em what you got, Munch," Cragen ordered, and John read aloud for our benefit.  
  
"'Grades for the second quarter sememester, Mr. Carl Volkmann's class. Derranger, Natalie, C. Prescott, Ann, D. Tomoto, Kit, D.'"  
  
"Wait, what?" I asked. John opened his mouth to read it again, but I stopped him. "No, I heard you, but Natalie's grade? She told me she had all A's!"  
  
"Not with Volkmann she doesn't," Munch noted, and I nodded.  
  
"Well, who else is failing Volkmann?" Elliot asked. Munch scanned the sheet.  
  
"Everyone in the eighth grade is either failing or right above passing. Natalie has the best grade in the class."  
  
"What about Lizzie?" Elliot asked, interestedly. I rolled my eyes at him, amazed that he could be thinking about that right now.  
  
"Elliot, not the time."  
  
"Oh, sorry."  
  
"I think we'd better get this Volkmann guy in here," Fin said, but Cragen shook his head.  
  
"And tell him what, stop failing people?" he said. "No, I don't want him to know he's a suspect until necessary. I want everything on this guy, though, but don't drop the dime just yet."  
  
"Right," Munch agreed, cynically. "He might skip down on his abundance of pay that he recieves for educating our youth."  
  
"Someone's bitter," I noted, resisting the urge to smile. Munch sighed.  
  
"I just think it's wrong for us to be looking at this guy when all he's doing is raising the bar for his students. He's trying to get them to work harder, take control, and because of that, we think he's our guy."  
  
"So you're saying just because he's a 'good teacher' we shouldn't suspect him at all?" I summarized.  
  
"No, I didn't say that..."  
  
"Yes," I interrupted. "You did." 


	7. Shelby

**Chapter Seven**

**Munch's POV  
**  
Fin and I were sitting at our desks the next Saturday, reading everything we could on this Carl Volkmann guy, and something about it ate at me no end. It was all too easy, clear-cut. And if there was one thing I didn't like to believe, it was things that came out to perfectly.  
  
Elliot and Olivia came back from Cragen's office, and grabbed their coats. Elliot waved cherrily. "We're off to interview Volkmann... oh, Kit, hi."  
  
I turned around and saw that an Asian girl stood in the doorway. At being recognized, she stepped forward.  
  
"Can I talk to you, please?" she whispered to Elliot and Olivia. They looked at each other, and more passed in that look than an entire conversation could contain. I was a little jealous that they could do that.  
  
"Actually, we were just about to leave, but you can talk to my friends over here, okay?" Olivia suggested, sterrign her towards us. I gave her a small smile, inwardly cursing the hell out of Olivia.  
  
"I'm John, this is Fin," I introduced and Fin gave a small wave.  
  
"Kit Tomoto," she answered. Olivia smiled.  
  
"They're safe, don't worry. See you guys in a few." With that, she and Elliot walked out of the Station House. I leaned forward as Kit sat down.  
  
"I read your interview," I began. "It was very courageous."  
  
"Thank you. I was scared, but I had to help."  
  
"So, what seems to be the trouble?" I asked. She gave me a strange look, and turned to Fin.  
  
"He talks weird."  
  
Fin gave an amused smile and said, without looking at me, "You'll get used to it. So, what's wrong?"  
  
"Okay, my friend, Shelby, hasn't been to school in a couple of days," she began. "Mrs. Wurst asked me to take her homework to her, and when I did, she answered the door and pulled me inside.  
  
"She said she'd read my interview, and told me that she'd gotten attacked just like me last Wednsday, and she didn't know what to do. I told her to come see you, but she'd rather you came to her. I've written her address down and everything."  
  
She handed Fin a piece of paper with very neat writing. Fin nodded, reading it. "Thank you, Kit, we'll go see her right now. Do you need a ride home?"  
  
She shook her head. "I'll take the bus. Just, um, help her, okay?"  
  
"That is our job," I said, and it seemed to be enought to comfort her, because she smiled.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Anytime, kiddo."

* * *

"Shelby's in the studio," Mrs. Dent told us, instantly, as we entered their brownstone. She seemed disapproving that her daughter even had a studio, let alone went in it. Fin picked up on that vibe, too, and he asked about it.  
  
"You don't seem to like that, Mrs. Dent," he commented as we made our way to the back of the house.  
  
"She's painting," she explained. "She thinks I'm going to pay her attention just because she's an angsty teenager. Well, she's going to have to do something worth while to get my attention."  
  
I raised my eyebrows at Fin, restraining the impulse to jump down her throat. As we walked up the stairs, she stayed at the bottom. When we reached the hallway, and Mrs. Dent was out of ear-shot, Fin whispered, "What is wrong with that woman?"  
  
"I believe the disease is most commonly referred to as 'Cronic Bitchy-ness,'" I told him. "All of my ex-wives had it. It's a devasting disease for the victims."  
  
"Most bitches don't seem like victims to me."  
  
"I was referring to their unfortunate husbands."  
  
"Oh."  
  
From the room farthest down the hall I could hear sobbing. I gave Fin a look before entering. A pretty girl with short, red, spiked up hair looked up from a canvas where she was making long brushes strokes. She didn't seem surprised to see us.  
  
"You must be those detectives Kit said she was sending over," Shelby sobbed, trying to remain calm.  
  
"Yes, we are," I affirmed, moving to stand behind her and look at the painting. It was of a very small girl with big, round eyes in a blue, frilly dress, with red swirls around her. Taped to the canvas were many photographs of a girl that looked like the one in the picture.  
  
"It's you, isn't it, Shelby?" I asked, forgetting that I was talking to a victim, and only seeing her as an artist. Shelby nodded.  
  
"It's who I used to be, before it happened..." She paused, turning on he stool to face me and Fin. "I suppose you'll want to hear all about that, right?"  
  
"We're gonna have to, if you want us to find this guy," Fin told her, and she sighed. She launched into an explanation of the attack, which was exactly like the other girls'. I could picture it. It was almost like a movie that kept running through my head. Always the same, but with different girls. And, boy, were there a lot of them.  
  
"Was anyone there with you?" I asked.  
  
"No, I was the last to leave the art room," she said, shaking her head. "Art Club, you know."  
  
"And he said you were going to get extra credit?" Fin verified, looking at the notes he was taking. I never took notes. Waste of time. I remembered everything anyways.  
  
"Yeah," Shelby remembered with a shiver. "That freaked me out so much that I didn't go to school all week."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well... doesn't it sound like a teacher to you?"  
  
I looked at Fin, whose eyes said exactly what he was thinking. I turned back to face Shelby and nodded, "That's a good theory. Do you have any teachers that you are having trouble with?"  
  
"Well, I'm failing Mr. Volkmann's Social Studies class," Shelby told us, "but I like him. He's a good teacher."  
  
"Has anybody ever harrassed you?" Fin asked, and Shelby shook her head.  
  
"No, people at school think I'm weird. They think that _I_ think I'm just the angsty artist that no one understands, which I don't." She sighed. "Kit's one of my only friends. She's a great girl. I can't believe someone would do that to her."  
  
"Or to you," I pointed out.  
  
"... or to anyone else," Shelby added. "Kit told me Annie Prescott was attacked, and I called her this morning, and she said Natalie Derranger was attacked, too. So then, I called Natalie, and we talked forever. She's such a sweetheart! I can't believe anyone would want to do that to her!"  
  
"Yeah, she's a sweet kid," I commented, but Shelby wasn't finished.  
  
"And it's kind of weird that he'd choose us," she added. I gave her a quizzical look.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, Kit was the first attack, and she's the stereotypical preppy girl, except she's not preppy. Head cheerleader, pretty, lots of friends. And then Annie, whose the bully, and then Natalie, the nerd, kind of, and then me. The artsy kid. I mean... stereotypes. Like in some cheap, teen movie or something."  
  
I looked at Fin, shocked at her insight, but Fin just gave me a small shrug. His face said, _I wouldn't know. I don't watch teen movies._ And I was kind of thankful that he didn't.

* * *

A/N: Please review, I love hearing what you think. And try to be constructive, if you ind something wrong. I like that. Thanks! 


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